


How Scary You Can Be

by pennywife



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Choking, Creampie, Disturbing Themes, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear Play, Other, POV Female Character, Pain, Predator/Prey, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennywife/pseuds/pennywife
Summary: “More.” You grit out behind your blood-slicked teeth, grinding up your hips to try and rub against it. “More. Give me more. This. You. Everything.”





	How Scary You Can Be

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!!! DO NOT SKIP OVER THE ARCHIVE WARNINGS. This is a R*PE ROLE-PLAY FIC! There is a LOT of possibly triggering content in here regardless of whether it is a consensual fantasy. NON-CON/r*pe role-play/fantasy theme going on here!!! Please, do not read this if you know it's going to upset you. I REPEAT ONCE MORE: This is a R*PE ROLE-PLAY FIC! NON-CON THEMES!!! TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD!!!

You can already see the little puffs of fog on the glass surrounding you, a product of your breathing that's now bordering hyperventilation. It takes exactly twelve seconds to get from your car to your front door, but on nights like tonight, those twelve seconds can feel like a fucking eternity. There's simply no way to calm yourself, no way to stop imagining all the things that could snatch you up the moment you step foot onto the driveway.

But that's the thing about the imagination; it never seems to run as rampantly as it does when you're alone in the dark.

You can hear your keys jangling in your hands as you step out of the car, clutching them just the way you were taught to in case anyone should spring out from the bushes. Just twelve little seconds. Just unlock the doors, skip across the stones leading up to your porch, and you’re golden. You’ll slam the door behind you, pour yourself a nice glass of red wine, and watch Dateline murder-mysteries until you pass out in the living room.

At the five-second mark you’re almost halfway there, and just like every other time you’ve gotten home late at night, it’s starting to look like you’re going to be just fine. As you bound up the steps you even let out a laugh, wondering how a grown woman could ever have been such a coward. It’s only when you  reach your hand toward the doorknob that you see the nightmare sitting cross-legged on top of your house.

Your body doesn’t react right away. With your neck craned upward to meet it, you simply stand there and stare at it for probably well over a fucking minute. Your bones turn to steel, legs frozen in place and in time. Whether it be out of sheer surprise, or a means to protect itself from the implications, your brain just doesn’t quite register what’s happening here.

“What the fuck?”

The clown perched primly on your roof grins at you, yellow rabbit-teeth gleaming from the faint glow of the porch light.  
  
"Would you look at that." The stranger hisses, cocking his monstrous head to the side as spit drips down the edge of his chin. "All _alone_."  
  
This is a joke— just some sick prank by one of your creepy neighbors. Derry’s a small space; filled to the brim with bored, drug-addled teenagers looking for someone who scares as easily as you. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened here; some piece-of-shit dressing as a clown to scare the living daylights out of the locals. People do weird shit in their free time, and that’s definitely not news to you.Too bad that doesn’t make someone hiding out on top of your house dressed as the town’s most disturbing legend any less horrifying.

“St-stay back.” You warn, voice cracking.

“And miss a perfectly warm meal? Surely you must know better than _that_.”

The stranger draws his eyes over every inch of your body, up the sharp edges of your joints and valleys of your curves. He studies you like a map, eyes bright with mischief and hunger. After a moment he flinches towards you with a sharp growl, sending a spark of panic through your frame. The intruder laughs as you cower away, taking delight in how easy it is to fool you.

“You know you’re not actually Pennywise, right? You’re just a _person_.” You spit out, and it sounds more like you’re saying it to yourself than to the clown-faced psychopath in front of you. “Just some fucking _weirdo_ in a costume.”

When he speaks again his words are hushed, yet high and squeaked like the chatterings of a rat. “Your words may be brave, but your scent betrays you.”

Heart pounding wildly, you take another step back and the gap between the stairs takes you by surprise. Your foot misses the ledge, and you slam backwards onto the unforgiving edge of one of the stones. Pain slices through your pelvis and rips free from your throat with a sharp cry.

At once the clown leaps down from the crux of your house and lands powerfully against the ground in front of you. Despite all the frills and layers you can see the strength lying dormant beneath them, muscles and joints undulating with ease as he creeps in closer.

“Get away from me!” You scream, as you reach for the keychain that slipped from your grasp during the fall.

The clown smiles in response, bottom lip dripping down as he shifts his head side to side. Your hand tremors as you straighten your keys, nearly ready to punch them out towards his face when he flicks his eyes and sends the brass trinkets hurling across the yard without even moving a muscle.

"Oh God, oh Jesus, oh what the _fuck is this?"_

It stands up straight now, and the sheer size of it is enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. A monster in every sense of the word, filling up your line of vision, and blotting out the glow of the porch-light behind it. You crawl backwards quickly, desperately; kicking up mulch and dirt just to keep it from stepping on you.

“Not even going to _try_ to run away?” It clucks its tongue, sighing as it bends over towards you. “I expected more from you, Little One.” 

Its words are like the sound of a pistol firing at the beginning of a race. You flip over onto your knees, using your hands to launch yourself forwards into a sprint.

The creature doesn’t even humor you. It catches you by the ankle, sends you sprawling onto your belly before you’ve hardly even began. It brings a hand around your throat as it places its knees on either side of your hips, gloved fingers wrapping nearly all the way around it as it squeezes. Clawing with a force that should bring up skin and flesh beneath your fingers you writhe desperately, fighting for the tiniest gasp of air to stay conscious.

“Wake up!” It hisses when it realizes you’re about to pass out.

Raising you up by the neck of your shirt, it starts shaking you as though you were nothing more than a tiny paper doll. The stars in the sky swirl in brilliant circles around you, the edges of your windows rattling as it jerks your head back and forth wildly against your own volition.

The clown releases its grip on you with a hiss, letting your face drop back down against the earth. Flipping you over onto your back with ease, it slams its claws into the dirt in a horrifying display of strength as it crawls over you. It covers every inch of you now, breath reeking of death and decay as it spatters drool onto your neck. It grasps your arms so tightly you fear the bones might shatter beneath its touch, pinning your arms over your head.

"Circus."  
  
The word is sudden, sharp, out of place here in the darkness of your front yard. Pennywise stops what it’s doing at once, eyes widening and fading back to blue.  
  
"Are you hurt?" It asks, and you feel your chest tighten at the regret in its voice.  
  
Your lover sits back onto its knees, looking you over with concern in its face. Its painted nostrils flare out in tiny movements as it sniffs you, checking for the iron-scent of your blood.  
  
A quip rests in the space between your jaws, wanting to tell it that hurting you is kind of the point. You close them instead, your heart cracking open under the pressure of its fretting. It won’t do you any good to make it feel as if it doesn’t understand.

"No. I'm okay. Just... uh… Just making sure."

“Sure of what?” It asks, lapping its tongue at the side of your temple.

“Just checking to see if it would work.” When it cocks its head to the side you add, “The safe-word,” and you watch as its shoulders drop.

“You doubted I would stop.”

“No. Well— Yes, I—” You worry your lip between your teeth, chewing on a patch of dry skin before continuing. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m having fun. I like this. I wanted this.”

“I frightened you.” It murmurs, as though it’s half-asking and half-stating what it already knows. “I hurt you.”

“No, you didn't... It’s part of the game, and it— it’s _supposed_ to hurt. It’s supposed to be rough, and scary. _You’re_ supposed to be scary.”

“I am _very_ good at being scary.”

“I know. I wanna see how scary you can be.”

Pennywise’s eyes morph from periwinkle to the bright yellow glow that they were before. Its carved brows lower, smiling with self-satisfaction as it leans forward to nuzzle against you one last time.

" _How scary I can be_." It repeats with a growl, mouth growing wet and dripping in anticipation.

“Circus.” You whisper once more, and the game begins again.

The being’s jaw unhinges without hesitation, fangs sprouting and multiplying by the thousands in rows atop its gums. It lets out a roar, pieces of half-digested skin and flesh flinging against you. Tears begin to stream down your face, and you’re surprised at how little you even have to fake them. Your chest heaves as you try to reach back behind you for something to pull yourself away.

“Please let me go! I’m not what you— I’m not even a _kid!”_

“The things I have in store for you,” It sneers, mouth returning to its almost-human state, “I would never do to _children_.”

You drop your mouth open, eyes wide with feigned surprise. “Wait, what are you— What do you mean? What are you going to do to me?”

You don’t even notice when the horror of Derry vanishes in front of you, leaving you seemingly alone in the midnight hours of your yard. When you register its absence you prop yourself up, screwing your face around in confusion. That’s when it grabs you by the back of your shirt again, drags you violently up the stairs leading to your porch. The edge of the steps connects brutally against the curve of your spine, punching the air from your lungs as it pulls you higher. It slams you against the front door, agony vibrating through your nerves as it bends down in front of you.

It wrenches your face to the side so that you may peer through the glass at the dimmed lights of your kitchen. Your breath puffs out hot and foggy against it, spewing out tiny red droplets as you gasp and groan in pain.

“How sad.” Pennywise croons, and the unnerving calmness in its voice strikes a spark of true terror within you. “You were almost home.”

It rips the blouse from your body unceremoniously, cool air lapping against your bare breasts. You peer through the corner of your eyes as it watches them bounce and heave from your gasps, its lips pulled into a snarl. You bring your hands to cover them, shame lighting up your cheeks like embers in the snow.

“You’re a monster! How could you even want this?” You’re blubbering now, letting yourself get swept up into the game like a beckoning current.

“What can I say?” Pennywise licks a foul-smelling stripe of drool up the length of your chest. “I’m a creature of consumption.”

There’s that same cadence in its voice, as black and cancerous as the liquid that seeps from its wounds, that made you say that safe little word just a moment ago. It’s all so _real_ , enough to stop the beating of the hearts in those who don’t get to curl up next to it at the end of every night. It’s raw power, hunger, and fright; yet it is somehow still not enough.

“More.” You grit out behind your blood-slicked teeth, grinding up your hips to try and rub against it. “More. Give me more. This. You. Everything.”

Confusion flares red on its paper-white face, mingled with surprise at your words. It bares its fangs at you and the sight sends a bolt of desire straight to your cunt at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” The monster asks, never once breaking character. “This isn’t _real enough_ for you?”

You can feel it now, a rumbling in the ground. It feels as if a dam is about to break, pressure building up violent behind some invisible wall. There’s no time to yelp, to even let out a gasp as the door swings open behind you. The monster flings you into your kitchen, sends you sprawled out on your back like a cockroach on the tiles.

“You want fear? I will give it you.” It seethes, and the house begins to quake around you.

You flinch away as a plate falls right above your head, sending shards of porcelain out as it shatters. It takes everything in you to bite your tongue, to keep from using that cowardly word even as the clown rips your jeans from your legs with claws that sear into your flesh. Even as the ceiling opens up above you. Even as blood rushes down from it, a crimson waterfall that coats the both of you together.

You let out a scream and find your mouth flooded with vile-tasting liquid. It goes on for what feels like minutes, drowning in ruby-red bodily fluid as it paints the entirety of your body and kitchen. At last it stops, and the clown straddling your legs leans back as its eyes roll into its head in ecstacy. It swirls its tongue around its lips, tasting the blood as though it were the sweetest of juices and running its fingers through its coarse hair of flame.

When it transfixes its eyes upon you once more something has changed. The whites that surround its irises have blackened, its entire demeanor having lost so much of what had made it appear human. It relies on sheer strength now rather than its telekinetic abilities, spreading your knees open and forcing you flat against the floor.

“Let go of me!”

It pins your wrists together over your head, begins fumbling with the lower openings of its suit. You choke out a gag when you feel something balmy pressing flush against your clit, trying clumsily to press inside your entrance. Eyes squeezed shut you wait for it, dreading the sharp sting of pain that’ll light your womb on fire when it starts fucking you dry against the floor.

Instead it lets you go. It crawls back away from you, and when you peer open your lids you see it standing over you.

“I bet you thought that this was it.” Pennywise teases. “That this was all about to be over.” It drags you up onto your knees with the power of its mind, invisible arms reaching out to you and forcing you to kneel in front of it. “You were wrong about that, Little Thing.”

“Please, just let me go! I’ll do anything!”  

“Of course you will. I am going to make sure of it.”

“You don’t have to do this! You don’t have to—”

Terror widens your eyes as it releases itself from the confines of its suit, its cock heavy and straining in its glove. Grey fluid leaks furiously from its tip, larger and more repulsive than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Your mouth.” It demands.

“What? N-no! Fuck you!”

“Only afterwards.” It smirks, reveling in your abhorrence. “Come on, just a little taste.”

It brings you in closer, dangerously so, and you can feel the heat from its head radiating out against your bottom lip. In all the time you’ve been together it’s never allowed you to do this, not even when you’d begged to. You shake your head violently in protest, fighting against its mental hold. 

“I will not repeat myself, Little Thing. I will rip your spine from your chest. I will tear your limbs off, and I will devour them. Then, I will use your mouth anyway.”

Your body shakes at the way those words roll so easily off of its tongue. You make a show of it as you swallow down your pride, leaning in to take a timid swipe of your tongue against its slit. The taste is sudden, putrid, and you understand at once why it never wanted you to do this before now.

It hisses in response, wrapping a hand around the back of your head and forcing itself in deeper. Your cry of surprise is muffled around it, glancing up through tears to see its head tossed back in pleasure. The muscles in its jaw clench down hard, distracting you from the unbearably sour liquid that coats your throat as it fucks your face.

“How sweet, how swell, you’re doing so _well_.” Pennywise croons, and you feel its claws scraping at the back of your scalp as they burst from its gloves.

So filthy and depraved, so degrading and without reason. You can feel a wetness growing between your thighs, too thin and warm to be the drying blood from earlier. Your body sings in anticipation, dying to feel that grotesque hardness sheathed deep inside of your cunt. You want it, you need it, and when it shoves you backwards off of it you stifle a squeal of excitement; knowing that this is finally it.

“Will you cry again when I first take you?” It asks, crawling back over you and lining itself up. “I hope so. I love the way you humans cry.”

“Stop! Please! I can’t—”

You expect there to be pain, being entered with no preparation whatsoever. Instead you find only pleasure, your desire slicking the way for it as it buries itself with one long thrust. The sharp lines of its face begin to blur, it wraps its hand around your throat and squeezes.

“You _can.”_ It hisses. “You _are_.”

You let out a sob when it begins snapping its hips, faster and faster, wanting so badly to reach down between your bodies and rub against that delicious bundle of nerves. It smiles as it fucks you, all beauty and terror wrapped up into one. So violent, so uncaring; more abominable that it ever was in the beginning.

But you take it anyways, that pretty little word miles away from escaping your lips. Even when you can feel the bruises swelling up beneath your skin from its grip. Even when it flips you onto your belly, pulls you up by your hips and ruts you like a dog on the floor.

“Oh God!” You cry, gritting your teeth at the new friction this position brings.  

It lets out a simian cackle behind you, above you, leaning over to press your face flush against the red-stained tiles.

“Not God,” It grates out, “ _Pennywise_.”

The slapping of its clothed thighs against your ass is like music to your ears, pleasure building just below your navel and spreading. Despite its efforts to be selfish, taking instead of giving, it strikes against that place inside of you that makes colors dance behind your eyes.

“Such a good girl. So obedient and sweet. You hardly even put up a fight at all.”

It wraps your hair around its fingers, uses the strands to wrench your head backwards.

“I think I’ll come back here, some night after I’ve eaten someone you love. I’ll even let you suck the blood from my teeth.” It snarls into your ear, and the fact that you aren’t sure if it’s words are part of the game is enough to send you over the edge.

When you come you see stars, swirling; just the way they looked in the sky as it was shaking you. It fucks you through it, dragging your orgasm on and on until you’re gasping and whimpering like an animal in heat. Your body goes limp as it continues using you, filling you, and your delicate flesh screams with overuse.

You can feel the slight stutter of its hips, the sharp inhalation through its nostrils. It knows that you’ve finished, and you can feel its cock growing impossibly harder inside of you.

“I _own_ you.” Your lover hisses, moving impossibly faster. “Time for me to prove it.”

Its talons burst into your skin as it comes, silent and quaking. You can feel the rush of blood-hot fluid as it expels inside of you, so deep that even walking will prove a challenge tomorrow. It wraps its arms around your waist, pulls you back flush against it as it twitches violently inside of you. Some part of you knows that you should feel worried, it’s never failed to pull itself out of you before. Instead you feel satisfied, feeling the warm trickling of its seed as it releases itself from your walls.

“Until next time.” The clown murmurs, moving to stand behind you. You strain your neck to watch from the corner of your eye as it straightens its suit and shakes out the stiffness in its joints. The tiny bells of its outfit jingle as it shifts around, indifference plastered across its face as it continues. “But for now, I have some other prey to attend to. See you soon, kiddo.”

Then it vanishes, right before your eyes.

It’s only now that you feel the true effects of its abuse. The deep gash on your tongue where you’d nearly bitten it in half now demands to be felt, just as the aches in your bones and muscles. All hints of pleasure leave your body at once without even so much as a trace. Sore and filthy and covered with bodily expulsions.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head at the chaos around you. God, what a bitch this’ll be to clean up tomorrow.

“You enjoyed it?” The familiar voice comes from your living room.

You use the edge of one of the counters as leverage, pulling yourself up onto wobbling knees and trying not to slip as you hobble over towards it. Warmth tugs at the corners of your lips at how different it looks to you now, seated upside down with its head hanging over the edge of your couch. There’s something so undeniably magical about it, so innocent despite the things you know that it has done.

It may be a monster, but it is undeniably your monster.

“I loved it.” You answer sincerely, wiping the corner of your eye. “Thank you.”

It stands as soon as it sees you, walks over to you and takes your hands into its own. “Come, Little One. Let’s give you a bath.”

**Author's Note:**

> Should have been writing the next chapter of Tasty, Tasty, Beautiful Fear but instead I popped out this baby. I just really liked the idea of a tamed Pennywise letting his villain-side loose on his established partner during a role-play game. Anyways, there you have it! Thanks so much for reading! Hope you have a wonderful day!


End file.
